


Soulmates - A Drarry Story

by Biscottin0



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hogwarts Third Year, M/M, Pining Draco Malfoy, Potions, Potions Accident
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:01:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26355382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biscottin0/pseuds/Biscottin0
Summary: A twist on the classic "potions accident" trope, based on the idea that you're connected to your soulmate by a red string wrapped around your finger.Takes place in Harry and Draco's third year.
Relationships: Cho Chang/Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very sorry if this isn't very good. I write in my free time, so hopefully this doesn't get too stressful. Please bear with me. (I'll try to make this as well-written as possible, but excuse my errors).

**_Chapter one; Harry’s POV:_**

_To Harry, potions was the worst class at Hogwarts. He despised Professor Snape for his obvious favoritism towards the Slytherins, and the way he treated him--and his friends--was just despicable. If he didn’t have Voldemort to worry about, he’d probably be number one on his list of people he hates, right above Draco Malfoy._

_Draco was a whole other ordeal in Harry’s book. He constantly tormented him, Ron and Hermione, and seemed to get joy out of seeing him suffer. Harry hated him from the moment he opened his mouth at Madam Malkin’s a little more than three years ago, since his prejudiced views just poured out of that sharp mouth of his. In potions, they were paired together frequently, because Professor Snape also got joy out of making him suffer. Always full marks to Draco and low marks for Harry. It was a cycle._

_Now, there they were, Draco and Harry, sitting next to each other in potions, trying not to beat each other up._

“You will be, with your partners, making the _potion of soulmates_.” Snape explained, waving his wand towards the chalkboard, which penned down the instructions by magic. “This brew is meant to connect you with your soulmate, and, if it is decent enough at the end of this lesson, you will be drinking it.”

I rested my head on my hand and looked over at the table in front of me. There sat Ron and Zabini, who were looking anywhere but each other, and Hermione and Parkinson. Hermione was talking to her partner in a low, monotone voice so no one could hear her but Pansy, but the black-haired girl seemed less-than-interested in whatever it was that Hermione was talking about. I tried to listen to Snape, because I knew that Malfoy would just get angry with me if I didn’t, but it was hard when Dean and Seamus wouldn’t shut up about the next Hogsmeade weekend. I managed to hear a little more.

“The effects of this potion will last for thirty minutes, and after you’ve taken it, a red string with attach itself to one of your fingers. If you follow that string, it will lead you to your soulmate, and you will be able to see that the string is connected to one of their fingers as well.”

Snape droned on and on about this potion, but eventually, I felt someone prod my shoulder violently.

“Potter, get the ingredients, you prepare, I brew.” Malfoy said impatiently. I got up from my stool and over to the supply shelves.

“Okay… I need… root of asphodel…” I muttered to myself, looking at the board at the front of the class. I gathered the ingredients in my arms and trotted back to my table, where Malfoy was measuring out the correct amount of water. I put everything onto the table and looked up again at the board. _Add 8 dittany leaves, 34 strands of 5-inch unicorn hairs, and 4 teaspoons of aconite fluid._ I cut off the dittany leaves, and count out the unicorn hairs, then prepare the aconite. Without looking up, I say “dittany and unicorn hair’s ready”. At my words, Malfoy takes them, recounts the unicorn hairs, and puts them into the cauldron. At the same time, I find the bottle of aconite fluid, and pour it into a teaspoon over a bowl (to catch the extra in case I spill some). I do this standing up, so I can easily pour it into the cauldron, and I wait for Malfoy’s firm nod before doing so. I repeat this step three more times, then sit down, starting to prepare the ashwinder eggs.

After an hour and fifteen minutes, our potion is finally done. We’re the second to finish, after Hermione and Parkinson, like always. Malfoy and I nod to each other, then I sit down and wait while he puts the brew into a small phial. He hands it to me, and I take out a pen (I’ve found that writing on a label with a quill never ends well) and a sticker-label and put _Draco Malfoy – Harry Potter DP1-3_ on it. I stick the label to the phial, and hand it back to Malfoy. He always makes me write it because he refuses to use a “muggle pen”, and he will not, under any circumstances, touch mine. Professor Snape, at the start of our first year, had us label our phials in a certain way. Your partners name, your name, what class ( _DP_ stands for “double potions”), what period, and what year. I’ve become so accustomed to what we write on the labels that I barely need to think about it anymore. Although I never call him “Draco”, the way my hand composes his name is a part of my muscle memory.

Malfoy goes up to the front of the class and hands Snape our potion (this was also part of our “partners arrangement”. I write on the label; he talks to Snape. It works wonderfully.). Snape takes it and opens the cork lid. Then, he sticks some sort of glass device into the liquid, and the corners of his mouth twitch a little. He puts the lid back on, puts it into a box beside Hermione and Parkinson’s phial, and says something to Malfoy, who looks over to me. We may hate each other, but in potions, it’s almost like we have a secret language. His face holds no discernable emotion except dislike when he looks at me, but I know, just from this look, that our potion was a success. I think about this for a moment. _It isn’t just potions. When I look at him in the great hall during mealtimes and he looks back, it’s almost like I can hear him saying “stop looking at me”. I can do this with Ron and Hermione as well, but they’re my best friends, and that’s normal. When it comes down to it, I barely know Malfoy, so why do I know what he’s thinking? He must know that we can do this, because he knows that just the act of looking at me gets the message across, so why hasn’t he done something about it? Probably for the same reason I’m not. This isn’t normal._

Malfoy sits back down beside me and says, “We can drink it”. Without any more words, I stand up and get two metal cups from the shelf: one for me and one for him. I hand him one and he pours some of the potion into it. I hold out my cup and he pours some for me as well, rolling his eyes so hard I think he might’ve pulled something.

“Cheers” I say, then I knock back the potion. The solution's cold as it runs down my throat, filling my entire body with a strange chill. I put down the cup and start staring at my hands, waiting for the red string. I see it, but I can’t feel it wrapped around, and when I touch it with my fingertips, it feels as though nothing’s there. I notice that the string is leading to my left, and so I look. I follow the string with my eyes and notice that it’s only about two feet long, and attached to…

I see Malfoy, sitting to my left, staring at my left ring finger, where the string is wrapped around. Our strings are linked, and the expression on his face says, “oh Merlin what now”, but he fails to say anything. I’m frozen in place; my legs start to feel like Jell-O. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Professor Snape, and the look on his face is questionable. He’s staring at us, but the usual hatred in his eyes is gone, and replaced with something else. Amusement? Understanding? I have no idea, but whatever it is, I know that he knows what’s going on here. I don’t know how long we sit there, gaping at each other, but in a flash, Malfoy is gone, having collected his bag, and escaped the classroom. Not bothering to be quiet about it. I see Parkinson look at the door after it was slammed, concern on her face. Then she looks to me with open anguish. I know, just like everyone else, that Parkinson calls herself Malfoy’s best friend. I reckon that he doesn’t feel the same way about her, because he’s always shrugging her off for Zabini, or anyone else, really.

I don’t say anything as I look back at my left ring finger, where the string is. Other people can’t see it, but I can, and it’s leading out the door into the rest of the dungeons, moving up and down with Malfoy’s unseen movements. _He can’t be my soulmate. He just can’t be! What are Ron and Hermione going to say when I inevitably tell them that the bloke who throws classist and otherwise bigoted words at them? Who hexes them in the corridors?_

_Can I just ignore this?_


	2. Chapter 2

**_ Chapter two; Draco’s POV: _ **

_To Draco, potions was the best class at Hogwarts. Professor Snape was his godfather, and he showed obvious favouritism towards him and his fellow Slytherins. He heard all the comments he made towards the Gryffindors, mainly the trio, Neville and Seamus, but nevertheless, Snape is second place in his “favourite people” list. Right below Harry Potter._

_Draco loved the Golden Boy right from the moment he saw him in Madam Malkin’s, and he wanted nothing more than to impress him. He brought up that his father might be buying him a racing broom, that he was going to be in Slytherin (the best house, in his very biased opinion), and he even apologized for bringing up the topic of parents. He remembers that he asked why he was with Hagrid, and where his parents were. Harry’s reply was a flat “my parents are dead”. He felt awful for weeks._

_Snape always paired him with Harry, and that was a big reason in why he loved potions. In his first year, Snape told him that since he was his godfather, Draco could tell him anything. He even made an unbreakable vow to confidentiality. Draco told his godfather of his affections for Potter, and that he had no idea what to do about it. Snape had been planning the “soulmates potion” ever since then, but he couldn’t put it into action until their third year, because of the curriculum. Snape paired the two together frequently at the start, but by the middle of their second year, they were together every class. He noticed that they seemed to be able to talk to each other without speaking, which was typical of soulmates, along with the ability to work well together despite claiming to hate each other. He just knew they were soulmates. And now, he had irrefutable evidence._

_There he was now, Draco, walking in the Hogwarts dungeons._

The pace at which I was walking was faster than my _Nimbus 2001_ could fly, and I felt my robes billowing behind me in the stale air of the dungeons. _Potter’s my soulmate? Did Severus really plan this? He told me he’d do something about my predicament with him, but I didn’t think it would be so forward! He hates me! I know he does! I’ve pretended to hate him for three years, and now that I can stop pretending, I just run away! My father was right, I am a coward. A sorry excuse for an heir._

I make it to the Slytherin common room, and the portrait looks different as I approach. Standing in front of it, I see that the serpent that usually inhabits the painting is gone. _Great. Simply great_. I think of other places I could go to be alone. An abandoned classroom seems fitting, but something tells me no. The girl’s bathroom on the third floor? Maybe, but I hear it’s haunted. The astronomy tower? Perfect.

I make my way up the castle, getting out of breath from all the stairs. I look at my left ring finger for the first time since I was in class, and it’s still there. There’s most likely about 25 minutes left until the potion wears off, so I pray that Potter doesn’t try and find me now. I look down the stairs behind me and see the bright red of the string, going all the way down and making a sharp right where the corner is. My heart aches as I think of him, sitting alone in potions, probably confused out of his mind. I think of him being angry, disappointed… I push myself to stop thinking, and start moving.

I don’t go up to the top of the tower, I’m way too exhausted for that. The storage rooms underneath the topmost floor have windows, and that’s enough. Sitting in one of them, I look out at the black lake, and I see the giant squid trying to break through the thick layer of ice on top. I shudder and realize that it’s January. School just started back up again but the snow keeps falling and falling. I can see my breath, and I pull out my wand to cast a warming charm around myself.

Even after forcing myself to stop thinking, Harry’s face is engraved in my brain, like I took a photo every time he looked at me. I wonder if he does the same. If I close my eyes, I can see almost every detail of his hair, his scar, his glasses… his green eyes. I persuade myself to open my eyes. Harry’s never going to fall for you, even if you are his soulmate. There’s no way. If I were lucky, he’d just laugh in my face then forget about it, but despite not knowing him well, I have a feeling that that isn’t the way he’d go about something like this. Any Gryffindor wouldn’t do that, I know that’s certain.

I sit there for a long time, not caring that I had missed lunch and ancient runes. How could I ever go back? I think of going to my dormitory, but I’d have to pass too many classes to get all the way to the dungeons. The risk of seeing Harry is too high. I’m much better off just staying here. The potion has worn off, and I even got to watch the bright red string fade to nothingness as it did. Although I can’t see it, I know it’s still there, and always will be, until one of us dies.

I can’t avoid dinner. My stomach is starting to hurt, and if I don’t eat soon, I think I just might die up here. I’m used to eating whenever I want at the manor, because of the house elves, so going more than three hours (besides sleeping) without eating is almost unheard of for me. I cast a tempus charm and see that it’s ten minutes until food appears on the tables, so I get up and out of the storage room, shivering when I walk out of my warming charm.

The great hall is bursting with contentment and banter when I walk in, and the scent of food hits my nostrils like an ocean wave. I beeline to the Slytherin table, though I don’t sit next to anyone I know. I can practically hear what Pansy would say to me right now, and I can feel her nervous look from metres down the table.

Pansy calls herself my best friend, though any sensible person would say that my best friend is no one. Sure, Pansy and I have known each other the longest, along with Blaise, but I wouldn’t call them friends. I sort of see them like co-workers. Someone you can have a nice conversation with, without spilling too much about yourself. I don’t have any real friends. Crabbe and Goyle (I refuse to call them by their first names, we’re almost strangers) are essentially bodyguards for me, set by my parents. The fact that they’d do that is very telling of their personalities. Pansy begs me to confide in her, and most of the time, just to get her off my back, I tell her that I’m stressed about Quidditch, or a particularly long essay. She doesn’t know what I deal with. The only person I confide in is Severus, and I’d like it to stay that way.

I sit at the table for quite some time, and I think I’m waiting for Harry to leave. I know he’s looking at me, but if I look at him, I think he’ll know what I’m thinking. For some odd reason, I think Harry and I can read each others’ minds. That makes no sense, but it’s like earlier, when Severus told me that our potion was okay to drink, I looked at him, and it was like he knew what I wanted to say. We’ve done it before, without realizing it, and I think it has everything to do with us being soulmates.

I don’t dare look up. I can’t risk that. After a while, I get tired of waiting for him to leave. Keeping my eyes on the stone floor, I virtually sprint out of the great hall, down to the dungeons.

_This is too much this is too much this is too much. He was probably staring at me angrily, planning on never ever speaking to me again, even if it’s an argument, or if we’re paired again in potions, which, we inevitably will. I don’t know what to do! Ugh! Why did Severus have to do this? Why couldn’t he jus—_


	3. 3

**_ Chapter 3; Harry’s POV: _ **

_Treacle tart has been Harry’s ultimate favourite food since his first year. He remembers the exact moment he tried it for the very first time. He had just been sorted into Gryffindor, and he was sitting next to Hermione and Percy, and across from Ron and the twins. They had just talked to Nearly Headless Nick, and dessert had just started. “What’s this?” Harry had asked Percy. “That’s treacle tart. One of mum’s favourites to make!” the prefect replied. He tried it and it was positively the best thing he’d ever eaten. The Dursley’s had never fed him anything like this before, and he couldn’t get enough. He ate so much of it that he got a stomach-ache, and just when he stopped, he looked up._

I saw that Malfoy had left the Slytherin table. I didn’t even notice. I was too caught up in my favourite food. In potions, I expected him to insult me, to say that he’d never want me to be his soulmate. Maybe things would’ve been better that way, less… problematic. He didn’t look up at me once while he was eating, and even more, he didn’t sit with his friends. _Harry, you seriously aren’t worrying about Malfoy, are you? Everything will be normal tomorrow. It doesn’t matter that he’s your soulmate. It doesn’t matter that you’re disappointed it’s him. This way, you can marry who you want. Oh, come on! This convincing isn’t doing me any good…_

I walked back to the Gryffindor common room with Neville since Ron and Hermione wouldn’t stop bickering about Scabbers and Crookshanks. I didn’t tell them what happened today in potions. When they asked why Malfoy stormed out like that, I told them that when we drunk the potion, there were no effects, and he got angry with me. I could tell that Hermione didn’t buy it, and she gave me a “we’re talking about this later” look. I’m dreading that. I just know she’ll get it out of me.

Neville and I just got to the changing staircases when Neville elbowed my arm.

“Harry! Look! Is that… Malfoy?” he asked, pointing to the bottom of one of the staircases. I had never been down that way, but I knew that those stairs led to the dungeons.

We crept closer, a little scared that Malfoy might be tricking us. He might pull out his wand and hex us both!

“I think—I think he’s unconscious! Harry, we need to get Madam Pomfrey. You wait here, I’m sorry, but I’d rather not stay with Malfoy…”

“I get it, Neville. Go get her—actually wait. We could just levitate him, right? It’ll be quicker, and I’m sure Pomfrey would appreciate it…”

“Alright…” he faltered. “But don’t blame me if she says, ‘ _oh you boys should’ve just found me!’_ he mimicked, making his voice high-pitched.

“Okay, okay! Just help me with this—take your wand out… _Wingardium Leviosa!”_ we cast the charm in unison, and Malfoy started to float, his arms dragging the floor. I make sure that we only keep him a couple feet off the ground, in case something happens, and either of us lose focus. Slowly, we levitate him up the stairs and into the corridor. Past the great hall again, and down to the left, towards the hospital wing.

We don’t cross anyone’s path on the way, but when we get to the huge oak doors of the infirmary, we see that they’re closed. I know that Madam Pomfrey has a spell she uses to open it, but I don’t fancy blowing up the entrance to the hospital wing by accident. Sighing, I say, “take down the charm on Malfoy. We’re gonna have to use the window-thingy.” On one of the two doors, there was a small handle, attached to a miniature door, capable of opening from the outside if need-be. We set the Slytherin down gently, _(why do you suddenly care? This is Malfoy we’re dealing with here? Since when do you care about his wellbeing?)_ and I pick him up manually, bridal style, as Neville goes up to the latch. 

_Malfoy’s—surprisingly light, considering the fact that he’s so tall. Seeing his face so up close is weird, though. I can see his eyelashes and the freckles on his nose and—Harry, stop examining Malfoy’s face! That’s weird! Okay, this whole situation is weird. Neville just needs to get Madam Pomfrey and—_

“What? Draco Malfoy?” I hear Madam Pomfrey say through the small door. Neville steps to the side and gestures to me, where I’m holding the _Slytherin Prince_ in my arms, positioning his to be securely around my neck.

Madam Pomfrey opens the door.


	4. 4

**_ Chapter four; Draco’s POV: _ **

_Draco’s bed at the Malfoy Manor was, according to his parents, one of the most comfortable and luxurious beds in all of the United Kingdom. He agreed, of course, because he always wanted to have the best things, but also, he always had the most amazing dreams in that bed. They were never the same in the school dormitories, or when he’d sleep in one of the many guest rooms at the Parkinson Manor, so his bed was particularly important to him. He tried bringing his sheets and comforters to the dormitories at Hogwarts, but it never worked._

_The dreams were always wonderful, but they got even better after he met Harry. The first dream he had of him, he didn’t even know that it was him, and he referred to him as “pretty boy from Madam Malkin’s”, until he found out his real identity on the train. That night, he slept in his queen-sized bed at the manor, and his dreams were filled with hair as black as ink and eyes as green as the serpent tapestry hung in his bedroom. He has dreamed about him every night since then, but they always seemed to be better at home. He was extraordinarily angry with his mother during his second year, when he wasn’t allowed to come home, because of the ministry raids going on at the time. He missed the Harry he always saw in his dreams. That Harry liked him back, held his hand, got sorted into Slytherin, laughed at his jokes…_

“Are you sure that’s all you saw?” a familiar voice said.

“Yes. Neville and I levitated him here after we found him, near the entrance to the dungeons.” An even more familiar voice said. My heart raced. Harry’s voice felt like it was right next to me.

I was on a bed, and the fact that the boy I’ve had a crush on for three years was sitting at my bedside was something to fawn over. I need to see this; I need to make sure this isn’t a dream. My eyes fluttered open, and he was the first thing I saw. Harry Potter, sitting on a chair next to the bedside table, his eyes full of an indescribable emotion that I hoped I’d never have to see again. The Golden Boy looked scared of what I would say, given the situation. _He definitely hates me now, though I was already sure of that. Are we just forgetting the soulmates thing?_

“How… how did I get here?” I asked. The weird expression on the boy’s face never left, even as I said this. He looked so uncomfortable, but I knew that Madam Pomfrey was probably forcing him to stay. _He would have left if it weren’t for her. Even if he does have a stupid hero complex._

“After dinner, Neville and I we—we found you at the bottom of one of the staircases. You were knocked out, and so we… levitated you here.” Harry never looked into my eyes, and instead fixated on the floor. _I’ve never seen him so nervous!_ I thought.

“You have been hit with a _love hex,_ ” Madam Pomfrey started, “it knocked you out because the person who threw it at you wasn’t incredibly good at it. I’m sure you’ve heard of this particular hex, for it’s one of the few that go around the Hufflepuffs. The effects aren’t immediate, but what it does is make you fall for whoever the caster chose. Only the caster can undo it, but it’s a lot like a love potion. Since it happens slowly, someone oblivious to the hex would think it was real love, until the effects wear off suddenly, of course. It has caused a lot of drama within the Hufflepuff house.”

_A love hex? Who would do such a thing! Maybe some girl wanting me to fall for her… or this is just a stupid joke and I’ll end up in love with Mr. Filch or something…_

“Mister Malfoy, I advise that you get some rest. You hit your head pretty hard there. You too, Mister Potter. Professor Snape will be here soon…” Madam Pomfrey finished. Harry was still looking at the floor, but after a moment (in which it looked as though he had to think awfully hard, in order to do this) he looked straight up at me.

“Sorry, Malfoy… about the… potion. I understand if you don’t want to be—”

“Potter, it’s… fine. Come here tomorrow, okay? If you… want…” I said abruptly but started hesitating at the end. The boy in front of me looked lost for words, but after what felt like forever, he managed,

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'll try and update this as soon as possible, I promise.


End file.
